consciousness
by matchboxcars
Summary: This wasn’t what she did. This wasn’t where she went. Post trials, because i had to do one too. nothing is mine
1. Chapter 1

This wasn't what she did

This wasn't what she did. This wasn't where she went.

Peeling walls, oozing booze, lewd men and scotch on her breath, this was not what she was supposed to be.

She needed help. She told the woman she needed help, and she had ducked out of that office as if she were stealing something. Stealing. Like he had done. And the kicker was that Elliot had a daughter who stole his credit card and he was the only one who could have, should have noticed. But family always came first with him.

Scotch. Ice.

"did you go?"

It would be Cragen who sit down beside her and orders a soda water, his sober, clear eyes on her face.

"Yeah."

"Did it help?" he's the one who laid the appointment card on her desk and told her to go, and she knew it wasn't official, she knew it wasn't required. But somewhere along the line she knew he put it together, because he was Cragen, because he had decided to take care of her when Elliot had decided to stop caring if she was hurting.

She thought she was done crying. She thought that she could ignore the pain and lactic acid running through her skin. She thought she was done feeling for the night, that after a few drinks she would go home, step over pizza boxes and clothes and make her way to the TV and couch and fall asleep for two hours. She would kill for two hours.

She thought she was done crying, but she's blubbering all over her boss and the fact alone makes her laugh, but she's crying, so it's all mixed up and she's all mixed up and she's done. She has never been more done with all of it than she has, right there, in Don's arms.

"Liv?"

She shakes her head. When she goes to stand she almost falls over. He catches her and pays the tab. When they go down the stairs, she is careful Her mother died on these stairs.

"I'm sorry Don."

"Easy on the curb. Let's get you home"

"I'm sorry."

And she's whispering I'm sorry over and over and she wonders if he is hearing her, because he doesn't answer.

"Detective."

"Sir?"

"You're going to be okay. We're going to get this worked out. You're going to be okay."

She wants so badly to believe him. But then she's back at Sealview, his cock right next her mouth and she's cuffed, and she's hiding, and she can't scream any louder and the world has to be crashing down on her.

"Olivia."

She looks at him, "It's over. You're safe now."

The wind hits her back. It's getting cold. She shivers.


	2. Chapter 2

He said nothing about her apartment, her made bed, her unmade couch

Thanks so much to all of you for your wonderful comments. If I wasn't such a ridiculously busy pre med student I def would respond to each of you individually, but unfortunately, it's hard enough to find time to write. But I really do appreciate all of the feedback.

He called Fin into his office the next day.

"Don't tell me Cap, they denied my transfer"

Don smiled, "we went over that already."

"right. So why am I here?"

"What happened in that basement?"

"You got the report," Fin's body had gone rigid, his eyes hard, his fists clenched.

"And I read it. But Benson isn't dealing and either you tell me what happened or you take care of it yourself, cause I will not be picking up my detective at The Velvet Room again, and I will not see her the way she was last night ever again. Your choice, detective."

Cragen watched as Tutuola turned, saw Olivia's empty chair, and bolted, grunting "cover me" to Munch as he grabbed his jacket off his chair, and ran out the door.

There were few things in the world that called back the urge to drink, but then, he had always had a soft spot for Olivia, a hidden guilt for partnering her with a man who, though she loved dearly, could break her to pieces for a misplaced word. And now this. Fin wasn't talking, she wasn't talking, hell, she was imploding. He felt as if he were watching his squad slowly unravel at the shaking hands of Olivia, her giant eyes, her trembling lips.

He hopes to god that Fin can get through to her, or that Elliot pulls his head out of his ass, or that someone, somewhere, from out of work, cares for Olivia and can get to her. Because he doesn't think he can, he doesn't think he should. She would bring them both down and then it would all fall to hell. But he wants to. He wants to so badly he thinks he could just lay into a bottle of Jack and finish the job.


	3. Chapter 3

She wasn't at her apartment

She wasn't at her apartment. She wasn't at the bar. It had started to rain and it was getting dark .Fin felt like he had lost a child in the park, and the world seemed so big, so bad, with a lost Olivia wandering through the haze. Elliot was a bastard, and while Harris was by far worse, Fin wondered what kind of damage a loose cannon like Elliot would do, given enough time. Because he had seen Elliot stomp Olivia into the ground when she needed a helping hand the most. But he had also seen Elliot bring her back around with a turn of his hand. Destruction in the name of maintenance: that was Olivia and Elliot. He wishes Elliot were here now. Something tells him she would have picked up her phone for Elliot.

He found her after fifteen calls, seven text messages and a conversation with a bartender at Maloney's. Yes, she had been there. No, she left a while ago. Yes, he would call if she came back. She sent him a text message at midnight with the address of a dive on Fourteenth Street, and Fin was tempted to turn on the siren and lights.

When he entered the room, she sat the way every cop does, back to no one, a slouch that turns away anyone looking for a good time.

She looked at him from over a glass of scotch. " I can't be a vic."

"You don't have to be"

This wasn't the Olivia he knew. This Olivia was quieter, she radiated an ache that got under his skin, pushed at his temples, made him tap his fingers and flip the cap of a ketchup bottle.

"What are you doing here Fin?

He smiled a little, she was always so ironic. "I could ask you the same thing"

Her eyes met his, and it was always her eyes that did him in, because they were the color of crashing cars and drunken mothers and a man in a prison trying to break her. Sometimes they were the color of coffee in central park, and sometimes they were the color of children.

She took them away, and he watched her gather the pieces of herself that she had let lie on the bar and put them back into her person. When he thought she would stand, she said,

"Thanks"

"Liv you aint gotta thank me for nothing. I should have been there."

"You were."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier"

Her spine changed, grew and twisted, "If you're here because you feel guilty, if you want some sort of assurance that you did get there in time, or that I'm just fine, because hell, I'm always fine, aren't I?" She stopped, looked at him, softened. "

"Fin, I don't blame you, you did nothing wrong, but if you are going to sit here and apologize, you can leave. I don't want a pity party, I don't want a scapegoat." She turned back to the bar, peeled apart layers of napkin. Downed the rest of her drink. Began chewing on ice cube."

"What do you want?"

And that was it. Because Olivia had never broken before, and he thought, if she ever were to break, it would be huge. It would be some sort of giant, screaming storm and everything would go to hell. But sitting here with her, she just caved into herself, her body lost posture and he was sure she would soak into the barstool as she whispered,

"I just want to sleep."


	4. Chapter 4

Half the squad thinks she's finally hit the fan

Author's Note: Thanks so much for all the reviews guys, you keep this story rolling. This chapter is a little dark, so be warned.

I own nothing, not even the toilet paper.

Half the squad thinks she's finally hit the fan. Scratch that, everyone except Elliot is biding their time until she packs up her shit and walks out the door. And when Elliot comes in, cell phone glued to his ear, and a "love you more" on his breath, her fingers form to pick up a non-existent packing box, and she nearly aches to disappear.

"Hey."

"Hey"

"We catch?"

"Not yet"

She should ask him how the baby is. She should ask him if Kathleen still has a tattoo, a boyfriend, a social life. She should laugh when she sees his face twist into its patented protective father expression, and she should have bought him coffee. But Eli was the icing on the cake, and when she held him in that ambulance and Kathy was flat lining she sort of thought that she wasn't real anymore, like one of those movies where people realize they are actually dead, they just didn't know it. Eli had a soft head. The disks weren't all sealed and he was all sticky and bloody and ugly, and she had never wanted anything more in her life then what Kathy had.

She's glad Kathy made it. She likes Kathy in a passive aggressive sort of way; in the way that she wants Kathy to be happy and have everything she wants because that way she has somebody to be jealous of. Because she doesn't know how to win. Because if Kathy is around, she can keep her two am nightmares to herself, and the mind fuck that Sealview gave her can stay where it is, eating her stomach, and he won't want to know about it.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. How's Kathleen?"

She hates how blue his eyes are, because they are so blue she can see through him, she can see crossed optic nerves and fields of vision and she can see that he isn't buying her half assed push at distraction.

"She's fine, though it might scar a little when they remove it on Friday."

She wonders how much it costs to get a tattoo removed. She thinks she might want to go and get inked and then have it removed. Just to be novel. Just to scratch a giant "Fuck you, Elliot Stabler and you too, Harris." Once she wasn't crazy anymore she would get it removed, but she has never been more assured that she has totally lost in her life.

Munch slams the gate shut on the holding cell and she's falling onto a mattress, cuffed. Her chest is so tight she thinks her lungs are going to burst. Somebody's glock pings against the lockers and his stick is tapping against bars and she thinks she is going to die.

"Liv"

She tries to think about when her name stopped being Olivia. She tries to think about how she got here, in an elevator, on the roof, Elliot's hand on her wrist and his damn voice booming her name into her ear.

He got her to the roof. She can breathe, because it's finally cold and it hurts to breathe and she likes it when it hurts like that. She wonders if he got her to the elevator before she really lost it. She wonders who saw her. She thinks she may not care.

A couple more breaths. A few shaky steps. An angry swipe at her mouth. He's watching her like a caged lion watches a zebra, or maybe not, but she likes to think he would fight with her if that's what she needed.

She looks at her foot, which has been designing shapes in the collected dust, and she wants him to push her, to pop her one that is just hard enough to hurt, and she would really like to tell him to go fuck himself.

"Sorry" is all that comes out.

"Hey, Munch's coffee sucks. I understand."

She thinks that Elliot has grown infuriatingly neutral since Eli, since Sealview, since she started needed him.

"You want to talk about it"

"No"

And she's thinking that maybe she would be better off just swan diving off of the building.


	5. Chapter 5

Fall has wrapped its branched tightly around her

Author's Note: All right, I finished it! I had to just draw this story to a conclusion at the risk of never finishing it. Thanks to all for the wonderful reviews and encouragement.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"I lost it"

"How so"

Her eyes dart to the woman across from her.

"I'm sorry I ran out last time"

"It's alright."

She's infuriatingly calm.

"I hate my partner."

"Do you?"

"No."

"Olivia."

"It was a panic attack. Elliot got me out to the roof before anyone saw anything."

"What started it?"

"Sounds."

"What kind?"

"What gave him the right? What in God's name makes someone think they can do that? He fucking killed me. How could he do that to me? To Elliot? Hell, to the whole squad? They all look like someone killed their best friend, and I suppose because someone did. What the fuck gives him the right?"

The therapist only shakes her head. Olivia is standing, shaking, she feels so tight, every muscle flexed, teeth ground in to each other, ready to fight.

"Olivia?"

She swings her head to the woman, still in the chair.

"Should you be angry?"

"Yes."

"Should you suck that anger in?"

"No."

"Are you dead?"

"No." She pauses, looks up, the therapist has this little smile, encouraging. "No, I'm not dead."

"Go to the gym. Hit the bag. I'll see you next week."

Elliot picks her up. His brow is creased, eyes a little softer than they have been. They're the eyes he saves for his baby boy. And he is looking at her with them.

"How'd it go?"

"You want to go to the gym?"

"Liv?"

"She told me to beat up the bag. You can hold it for me."

"Alright."

She doesn't stop moving for forty-five minutes, but by the end of it, Elliot is crying and she is sobbing and they can't stop saying sorry. Her skin doesn't hurt anymore. His hands aren't clenched. He drives her home, waits for her lights to blink. She thinks she might move, just to start over. But she goes into her room, a cup of chamomile tea and a David Sedaris collection. She sleeps.

--

Fall has wrapped its branched tightly around her. She finds it strange to know she is still alive, still breathing, that days have passed her by in a trance of sensations that felt a bit like having a gun pressed to her temple, or a man with too much power, a mattress, a prison. Sensation like realizing the possibility of dying alone. Like falling down.

Coolness snaps at her face, an auburn leave crushes under her boot, a man talks about coffee and meeting a woman. She's still hung-over from falling apart, and she wonders if Elliot will ever care about her again. But of he does. But of course he will.

He catches her walking into the precinct. Her skin is still cool from the air outside, and she feels clean for the first time in a while.

"Hey."

"Hey El."

He seems softer today, a little freer, a little less tight, a little more like the man he was five years ago. Or was it ten? They've grown older.

"It's nice outside."

"Beautiful"

"You want to grab a drink later"

"It's eight in the morning"

"How about in twelve hours then"

"Yeah. Sounds good."

And she knows that they won't go to Maloney's, and she knows she will order one beer and drink half of it because she has had too much to drink lately, and he will drink her other half. Because he is her other half. They will talk about Eli, the kids, he will say he is sorry because he is, because he would have let himself fall in love with her if Kathy hadn't given him one more son. She will tell him he has nothing to be sorry about, though she kind of likes that he is sorry. He will give her a hug, and she will smell old spice, and then he will make her blink her lights when she gets home. Instead she will send him a text message.

And she will sleep.


End file.
